


She'll really do you in / If you let her get under your skin

by WeekendWriter



Category: Far Cry (Video Games), Far Cry 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Gen or Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-05-01 01:44:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14509758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeekendWriter/pseuds/WeekendWriter
Summary: Jacob was at his desk pouring over some maps of the region when you noticed him scratching absentmindedly at his forearm. Scenes from the lumber mill ran through your head and it all finally made sense.Oh, you’re not sure who was more screwed, him or you.





	She'll really do you in / If you let her get under your skin

The mission came as a surprise, but you certainly weren’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth - especially not in Hope County Montana where a gift horse made an appearance about as often as Jacob Seed’s laugh. You’d been patiently watching and waiting by Jacob’s side, itching to get back into the thrill of the chase as the call to action rattled around your skull, without being able to do anything about it for far too long. You certainly weren’t going to do anything to piss Jacob off now that you’d reached some sort of easy understanding (he seemed to agree; at least, the fact that he hadn’t banished you to one of those horrendous cages in weeks seemed to indicate so) but just because you weren’t running around with the Resistance anymore didn’t mean you couldn’t still be useful.

So when Jacob dropped a stack of photos on the table in front of you, you sat stock still until he cocked one brow at you. You spread the photos out with quick hands: surveillance photos, nothing new to you. You squinted at the gray trailer-like building, the long metal belts extending to the sky, a flash of the piles of wood scattered about randomly –

 _The Baron Lumber Mill_.

He crossed his arms. “Why don’t you go on and get that back for me.”

No music box, no other orders or directives, and you realized as you snatched the rifle from him on the way out – no hunting posse dogging your every step.

You were being trusted with a mission. The part of you that always preened under Jacob’s praise lit up as you tore through the countryside towards the mill. You hardly even cared that what you were doing would set the Resistance back a good bit; feeling the rush of the wind and the stretch in your muscles that you’d missed was more than worth it, especially when you were being allowed such a long lead.

The mill was as easy to re-capture as it had been to capture; really, the poor people of this county gave Stormtroopers a run for their money some days. Jacob’s reaction upon your return had been little more than a grunted acknowledgement and a “you know what to do with that” directed toward the rifle.

Your ego deflated ever so slightly as you placed the gun back on the rack in his office. Not that you were expecting extravagant praise from the soldier – you knew the “well done” and “perfect” were few and far between and, as he liked to frequently remind you, rightfully so given your usual performances. You know what he was doing and why he said the things he did, but you couldn’t help but hold out hope for it.

The surprise came back around days later as Jacob was breaking in two new recruits. Jacob had taken to having you present as often as Pratt. The wolf of a man would never admit it, but you were a shining example of how a person’s will could be broken, remade, and used for a greater purpose. Having The Deputy present during his ‘lectures’ was certainly a powerful motivating tool.

“…strength has been forgotten in our society. Its true importance has long been cast to the wayside, and embracing this strength, if and only if you possess it, is what will separate you from the rest of the herd. It’s what will allow you overpower others, to stand over them with the ease of one simple, calculated move.”

His words stuck in your brain – there was something about what he said, that example that he’d given, that scratched at the recesses of your memory in a way that you couldn’t ignore. It was far off but familiar.

Far off, only until you caught sight of his arms a few days later.

Jacob was at his desk pouring over some maps of the region where he suspected the Whitetail’s hidden bunkers were (50/50 hit and miss, based on your knowledge of the mountain) when you noticed him scratching absentmindedly at his forearm. You frowned; it wasn’t like him to pick at his wounds. He was smart enough to know that infection was the last thing he wanted, so he usually left the scars and gashes he inexplicably accumulated day by day alone. The other arm looked as though it had been bothered recently, too. Stealthily, you prowled closer to the desk, feigning interest in the map until you could take in the sight of the redness and irritation that worked its way up the skin of the backs of both of his forearms.

It started to make sense.

A soldier was trained to be silent, reserved, and yet you couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled to the surface. Jacob’s head turned slowly, dangerously, until he met your eyes over the map.

“Something funny to you, little doe?”

Oh, you’re not sure who was more screwed, him or you. The pet names hadn’t started until around the same time, too. Scenes from the lumber mill ran through your head and it all finally made sense.

The only indulgence you took at the lumber mill as you liberated it was when you killed a particularly arrogant enemy. He’d gone down hard, expertly taken down with one clean sweep of your leg to his, and you’d stopped to savor the moment you stood over him before ending his life with a bullet to his head.

_“It’s what will allow you overpower others, to stand over them with the ease of one simple, calculated move.”_

Once the dots connected, there was no turning back for you. “You were watching me at the lumber mill. You wanted to watch and see how I’d do.”

Jacob didn’t move an inch; didn’t even breathe, probably.

“You grabbed your sniper rifle to watch from a distance and followed me out there, and–” God help you, but you couldn’t get the words out. The mental image you’ve created was simply too much; Jacob Seed, expert soldier, region herald, _accidentally lying down in poison oak while trying to line up his sight to watch you on your mission_. That, coupled with the pet names and the fact that he even let you out into on a mission in the first place? Much as you know he’d vehemently deny it, he’s taking some kind of liking to you. That was why he refused to dole out praise easily to you.

He finally crossed the table to your side. His steps, cold and calculated, didn’t deter your laughter as much as you’d hoped, but you’ve finally got it down to a watered-down chuckle as he asked, “And where, exactly, is the proof of that? Even if I was anywhere near you, you really think you would have seen me, girl?”

Wordlessly, daringly, you reached out to grasp his wrist with shaky fingers and lifted his massive arm. “Gotta be careful where you lie down out in the mountains, Jake. Poison oak’ll sneak up on you if you’re too busy paying attention to something else.”

There was a pause, during which you weren’t entirely sure you weren’t going to die for catching him in the act like this, and then he let out a chuckle of his own, low and dark, that you could practically feel more than hear. “Smarter than you look. Maybe you’re more of a predator than the prey I first took you for. But, _you_ be careful, little fox, ‘cause even predators can be hunted.”

The underscore to his point came as he leaned forward and placed both huge hands on the table beside you, effectively caging you in.


End file.
